


The Divide

by ColdCoffins



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdCoffins/pseuds/ColdCoffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Were-Gas AU. One hunt night Henryk and Gascoigne save Djura from trying to help the beasts of the forbidden woods. Djura raises an interesting argument about Gascoigne's condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Djura waved his torch as he stepped back.

“Please, you don’t know what you do.” He pleaded for a spark of humanity to appear in the reflecting yellow orbs of the beast horde. Only, his torch enlightened the many gnawing fangs and clicking blood-tipped claws.

“Shh..I am only here to help. Be calm.”

Djura the retired hunter was no stranger to taming the savageness of beasts. These creatures were once people. It only took the right amount of patience to bring forth a human recollection from their ilk. Only these were not the beasts of Old Yharnam. There, the beasts were surrounded by old memories of their now burning city. They were no longer in the streets where they would wander, scratching on the doors of their old homes. No, these were beasts of the wilds. Their element had consumed any humanity that once remained. These beasts belonged to the forest and it was seldom these beasts could find a good meal. All they had to eat was filthy half-creature men and plague ridden boars. It was rare such healthy untainted meat wandered so willingly into their claws.

“Down now, be good–”

Djura was interrupted by a blast of gunpowder from a pistol.  The shot struck a beast, causing it to turn and roar at the source. The smoking pistol was in the hand of the old hunter Henryk. His thick yellow garb stood out against the inky blackness of the half-mooned night. Beside him, in his black hunter church garb, stood another hunter. He was far larger than the yellow garbed man, his dark coat allowed him to blend in with the shadows of the trees. Only his light silver hair and dirty holy shawl could give away his form.

“You fool.” Father Gascoigne said through a fanged snarl.

At the arrival of the two new hunters, the beasts moved away from their old prey and into an aggressive mob. They opened mouths that were a mish-mash of human and beastily teeth and attacked with elongated arms outstretched.

Like the beginning of an unnatural dance, Gascoigne and Henryk began their slaughter in-synch. Henryk would side step with a saw-cleaver swipe. He would draw his pistol and let his arm strike out its shots with the speed of a recoiling snake. Gascoigne wielded deep, arching blows with his hunter’s axe. These crescent bladed sweeps were accompanied by an occasional blast of bullets.

The hunters ballet of claw and tooth and iron and blood.

Djura could only take in the fray before stepping in himself. Just as Gascoigne went to bring down his axe with another swing, Djura caught his wrist to with-hold his action.

“Stop!” Djura yelled over the carnage. “You must NOT!”  
Gascoigne tore his arm out of Djura’s grasp.

“A BEAST is a BEAST, Djura!” He roared. “They are creatures beyond redemption!”

In a strange turn of fate, a beasts claws found their mark across Djura’s arm. It caused him to drop his torch with an extinguishing clatter against the thick grass.  With a gasp of pain from the retired hunter, his blood was spattered across the face of his fellow hunter Gascoigne.

The smell…no the taste of his friend’s blood in his mouth ignited his senses. He was submersed in a symphony of red.

Djuras blood curated in his nose

it was fresh

and filled with the mans adrenaline.

“Gascoigne!”   
The priest heard a voice somewhere very far away. It echoed in his head. Who was it?  
“Gascoigne come to your senses!”

Gascoigne snapped from his blood induced trance. He was holding Djura off the ground by his collar, the fabric and leather of the ashen garb balled tight in his fists. Gascoigne began to breath harshly before he re-introduced Djuras feet to the earth once more.

“Djura…Iy…” Gascoigne uttered before a sickening sensation hit his gut. He began to shake as a very familiar pain began to creep its way into his frame. The beast was rearing its head again. It was thirsty for blood.

Gascoigne began to crumble as his shaking legs failed him. His heart pounded in his chest and he swore it increased in size with each sickening throb.

Henryk paused in his killing when he saw the large silhouette of his partner start to fold. He flew to his side.

“Easy…” Henryk told his partner in a hushed voice. “Stay with me now.”   
Henryk raised his head, his blue eyes locking onto the ashen hunter Djura.

“We need to go.” 

\-  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Djura leaned his weight on the iron grate door. It complained loudly in its retired state before opening for the hunters for gain access to the old wooden structure. Djura peered inside briefly, checking for beasts or any other unwelcomed guest. The shelter was rounded in shape, its floors and walls worn from the elements. A singular thick wooden pillar with a stone masoned base kept up the porous ceiling that let in the night air. A crumpled form lay in the corner, but it was only a corpse drained of blood.

“In here.” Djura looked over his shoulder and jerked his head in the direction of the open iron grate door.   
Henryk came into view of the door frame. He shouldered Gascoigne, a much larger hunter then himself. Djura gave him aid when he was close and the two old hunters shuffled their friend into the structure.

“Here…lie him here.” Djura motioned to the pillar in the room. They gingerly propped up Gascoigne against its thick base. The priest still breathed heavily, his face in a snarl of pain. His hand clutched at his chest. His two companions could have sworn that hand had grown dark claws.

“Be calm.” Henryk told Gascoigne in a lulled voice. “Clear the blood from your head.”

“I…am trying!” Gascoigne could not help as he snarled and growled despite himself.   
Henryk with a hand on his partners back, could feel the other man’s muscles twist and pull under his garb with the resistance of a change.

“Djura, help me.” Henryk said to the ashen hunter.

Djura nodded before kneeling on the opposite side of Gascoigne.

“Listen to me now, Gascoigne. You mustn’t fight this, this beast. You are creating a divide between the man and the creature that is most harmful. Create a close.”   
Henryk furrowed his dark brows under his feathered cap at the hunter next to him.

“Djura…what are you saying?”  
“I am saying this charade of resistance can only lead to greater harm. He must close this divide so the beast can become more human and the human more beast.” Djura explained simply.

“The ‘divide’ could not be great enough!” Gascoigne huffed from between clenched teeth that itched to grow.

“I have seen many hunters become beasts Djura. There are few things more harmful.” Henryk told the ashen hunter.

“No no, he must realize they are one in the same. You have seen how he harms himself, yes? This divide is clearly nothing good.”   
“This is nonsense. “

“This is proven!”  
“ENOUGH!” Gascoigne bellowed between them, his voice briefly became distorted. A hollow pop resounded from his body at his loss of concentration. Both old hunters could have sworn they saw a much more savage shadow cross the priest’s face.  Gascoigne was grappling for control of his own body, he did not wish to hear these two old men bickering about his condition like he wasn’t there.

“Leave me…! This illness is…my own first and I will deal with it how I see fit!”   
There was a silent pause before Henryk stood and left out the iron grate entrance. Djura hesitated himself before he stood and followed the yellow garbed veteran. Djura closed the iron grate once he was outside.

He saw Henryk had taken a seat on one of the misfit stones in the structure’s base. He had undone the strings that held the bottom part of his high collared garb to show his face.  The old man took a small pipe from the satchel hidden under the many layers of his garb. He finished packing the pipe with tobacco before he struck a match to light its contents.

Henryk breathed in from the pipe’s end deeply before exhaling a swirling cloud of thick smoke.

“The smell will help.” He commented motioning to the cloud. “Dull his senses.”

“Oh…yes, how useful.” Djura remarked thoughtfully before taking a seat on the opposite side of the door’s frame to Henryk.

For a moment, only the sounds of the forest night were present. The calls of beasts, once human or not echoed forth amongst the drone of insects. Wind causing the tree leaves to resound like chimes.

“You are a powder keg.” Henryk spoke. “I have only heard about you from what Gascoigne has told me.”   
“Hnn. Well, I can hope what was said was in good will.” Djura let the corner of his mouth smile slightly.

“Not all. But some.” Henryk replied simply as he inhaled on his pipe again. “You were in the powder keg hold of the old yharnam church of the good chalice then?”  
Djura gave a short huff of laughter at Henryks word, as if remembering something fondly.

“You heretics bet the church hunters you could hold the chalic church for an hour. Just by yourselves. Your ilk did so with a burnt flag flying as a commemoration for your conviction. Being…one of those said church hunters who lost said bet, I admired your cut of bravery.”  
“Ah yes…and the church still fell to the beasts.” Djura commented in return. “I was younger then, a spirited hunter. Too spirited to see what I was really doing.”

Henryk let the smoke from his pipe exit his nose. The puffs swirling about his face and under his cap. As he did so, Djura began tying off the wound he received from a beasts stray claws. It looked angry, the flesh swollen.  Henryk chewed his pipe’s end thoughtfully as he watched the old hunter tend to his wound.

 Henryk was a hunter who said little. When he did speak, it was something worth being said.

“You defend the creatures. Why?”  
“They are people.” Djura responded distantly.

The two veterans were interrupted by the sound of the grate creaking open. A tall shadow fell over them as a tired, graveled voice said.   
“We are done here. Enough lingering.”   
Gascoigne was leaning on the wooden frame of the door for support. His fight against his body had left him drained of strength to stand on his own.

“Gascoigne…you are well?” Djura asked. He moved to help the priest but paused.

“Aye…well as I can be.”  
“Then let us head home.” Henryk extinguished his pipe before he stood. He shouldered Gascoigne, letting him lean his weight upon the yellow garbed man. Djura moved to Gascoigne’s other shoulder, giving his friends aid.

The three traveled to exit the woods in mostly silence until Djura asked.

“So…I must ask, how did you stop your change? You took my advice I suppose?”  
“Hah.” Gascoigne huffed. “That is something I will keep to myself. Lest the two of you start your bickering again.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gascoigne rolled over once more in the bed he shared with his wife. He found no peace in sleep this night. Something that blasted beast-loving powder keg had said was stirring in his mind. He had tried to will it away, yet, it stayed with him still.

_‘He must realize they are one in the same.’_

Viola slept soundly beside him. Her soft rhythmic breaths beside his own were usually enough to put him to sleep. Not tonight.   
Gascoigne sat up before burying his face in his palms. He then looked over at sleeping Viola. How beautiful she was…her golden hair reflecting the half moon’s light as if they were apart of its pale rays. He would not disturb her with his foolishness. He crept out of his bed, trying his very hardest not to disturb or awaken her. Gascoigne was about to leave the bedroom when he heard Viola moan lightly and turn over. He froze.

No..she still slept. He silently willed her to stay in her peaceful state, to not accompany him downstairs this night.

Gascoigne descended the stairs to the first floor of his home. All was quiet. The girls also were deep in their dreams.

_‘You are creating a divide between the man and the beast that is most harmful.’_

Gascoigne stood infront of a window in his home. He looked up through the bars and chains kept on the outside to see the half moon hovering in the sky. He raised his lip in a half snarl. It mocked him, how close it would soon be to full. How soon he would become that half minded creature once again.

_‘Create a close.’_

Gascoigne pondered over Djura’s words. Perhaps…there was some truth. By taming his own inner beast, could he gain some sort of control? Something to make him less unpredictable, something to uncloud his mind on those nights.

No. Of course not. This was information originating from Djura. The fool.

But…

Gascoigne raised one of his hands to his face. He looked at his palm and flexed the extremity briefly before turning his open palm to the half-moon. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

Do something. Change. Think of the hunt. Of the chase. Of the blood.

A pop resounded from Gascoigne’s hand as fingers began to elongate. Gascoigne’s eyes flew open and he exclaimed a pained gasp of surprise. He grasped his wrist with his other unchanged hand.

No. No, no. Not here. He didn’t expect this. Stop. Stop now.

Gascoigne clenched the wrist of his changing hand hard. It had now enlarged and grew black claws from his fingertips. It was the hand of that creature he became. Gascoigne caught his breath after afew escaping pants.   
He clenched his changed fist in anger at himself. The fool he was! How could he have expected anything less? Why did this condition frighten him so? And in his own home! Gods the children were in bed and Viola was upstairs. What if he couldn’t stop it? What if it progressed?   
Gascoigne grasped his face with his unchanged hand out of anger. The claws of his tight fist began to draw blood in his other palm.

What would have happened then? Viola waking up and stumbling downstairs to a blood thirsty beast in her home? Fool!

“Gascoigne…?” 

A light tired voice shattered his thoughts.

Viola!  
Gascoigne turned to his wife, swiftly hiding his beastly extremity behind his back.

“Hmm? Yes, love?”   
“Gascoigne…what are you doing?” Viola rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She began to approach her husband. “It is so late…”

“Iy…I couldn’t sleep.” He shifted awkwardly as she approached him. He couldn’t let her see his foolish mistake. Gods help him… “Thinkin’ about last night.”

“What about it, dear?” Viola titled her head slightly.

“Just…what that beast-loving fool said. It’s nothing.” He pretended to wave away the notion with his normal hand. “Go back to sleep, love. I will be up shortly…”

“Gascoigne…are you hiding something from me?” 

Gascoigne’s heart froze in his chest and he swallowed.

“N-no…why would Iy be?” He shifted again. “Viola please…”

Viola folded her arms before raising her brows knowingly at her husband.

“Enough. Let me see.” 

Gascoigne inhaled a deep breath and held it. He didnt move.   
Viola moved instead, she stepped forward. Viola reached up and touched her husband’s shoulder. She then slid her hand down,down his arm. When she began to reach his wrist she pulled his hand around to his front where she could see the changed part of her husband. It was only then that Gascoigne released his pent breath.

“Viola Iy…” 

Viola held his large hand in her two. She palmed the back of his beastly hand while she traced his palm with her own. She glided her finger up one of his dark elongated own and felt the hard razor black claw it ended with.

“What is troubling you really, my hunter?”

Gascoigne ran his tongue over his lips in apprehension. He was finding words difficult now for some reason. He was about to speak when he gave a grunt of pain and Viola felt the muscles in his beastly hand go tense. The pain traveled up to his shoulder where it nested in the joint. Was the rest of his body that eager to follow through on the change?

“Viola…” Gascoigne began but she cut him off with a shoosh.

“Can you turn it back?” She held his hand in both of hers.

“Iy don’t know…I haven’t tried yet.” He admitted to her. “Viola this could–”

“I will help then.” Viola told him as she took his monstrous extremity and moved her thumbs down to the base of his palm. She put light pressure as she worked her thumbs in stroking motions on the fleshy base of his hand. “Just try to relax. Now…what has been bothering you? Really?”

Gascoigne took a breath, trying to do as his wife told him. Already he could feel his heart begin to steady in his chest.

“Djura said somethin’…somethin’ about a divide. Between me and…”

“The beast?” Viola finished for him.

“Aye…”

“Hmm. How insightful of him.”

“No its…its nonsense! That mindless creature is…”

“Is you. He is right in a way.” 

“Iy…dont want him to be.”

Viola paused in messaging his hand. She sighed before looking at Gascoigne with her blue eyes.

“Would you want to know what I think?”

“Yes, of course.” Gascoigne answered.

“I think…” She raised his hand to her mouth. She lightly ran her lips from the base of  his elongated darkened fingers to the ebony claws at the top. “…that they are both my husband.”

Gascoigne opened his mouth to respond but he winced as pop resounded from his hand. The bones beginning to shrink and relocate to their proper sockets. Viola felt the change through her own hands as she held his.

Once his extremity was his again, Gascoigne slowly closed and opened his fingers. Viola placed a kiss on the center of his palm before releasing it gently. She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his head to guide him down to her height. She placed another kiss on his forehead.

“Do not let your mind be troubled by such things.” She moved her head back to look at her hunter. “I will ask Djura to come over for tea tomorrow. I want to hear what he has to say on the matter.”  
“Viola…” Gascoigne sighed at the thought of the ashen hunter in their home again.

“Shush. Now…come back to bed with me. The hour is late and we both need our rest.”

The giant husband and the small wife ascended the stairs of their home. The first floor became hushed and quiet. The darkness was nestled in its corners save for the half-moons light pouring in from the window.


End file.
